Sunday night
My darling Buddy-
Another Sunday night alone in a hotel room with the radio.
Enjoyed talking with you this morning – sorry I was so foggy. I left a call for nine o”clock and then dozed off so you woke me up. I’m sorry we missed connections last night. I went out (as you know) for a change. Had a fair time – I’ll tell you all the details when I get home. And, no, I wasn’t potted.
As I said on the phone, I went to the art gallery when it opened at 12 and left when it closed at 5. I didn’t even get all the way through the place. Surely did wish for you, too, when I saw all the lovely masterpieces – Stuart’s “Washington” and all the rest.
Incidentally, I cashed a check for $75 which West Virginia will pay most of. You’d best look at the bank balance. While I’m almost positive we have it, I’d feel better knowing you were checking on it.
I’ve mailed a couple of birthday presents which should arrive soon. I’m going to call you that night, so please be at home. I’ll probably call about seven thirty your time.
Incidentally, I saw some hand-painted — well, they’re like our colored ducks — glasses and with a piece of wood for a tray they sell for $22.50 for eight, so I don’t think we have to worry about tourists thinking we’re high on our prices.
And, at the art museum thy had a display of glassware. They had some fired decorated glasses dated back to about 1600. There was also a display of ceramics. Based on the figurines I saw I think that the girl with the goat that Mrs. Rose gave you dates about 1750-1800. And the glass salt sellars with the bumps are about 1850-1870.
Remember Mary Averill’s painting by Monet? Well, it’s authentic all right. The museum has a companion painting — almost exactly the same scene — by Monet dated 1908. So, she really has something.
Must close now. I have to get the map of Chicago out and chart my trips for tomorrow so I don’t chase from one end of town to the other making these calls.
See you Friday, darling — I miss you terribly and love you very much.
My regards to your folks.
All my love,
Louis

Postmark: November 13, 1948 Chicago, ILL

(Probably as a birthday card)

Postmark: November 14, 1948 Chicago, Ill
Monday night

Dearest Rosy,
Another day of pavement pounding. Pooped!
Started out this morning about 15 miles out of town and have been riding street cars and walking all day out in that section. Actually one place I called on was about the size of Sammy Fleming’s shoe shop. Had to walk over a mile over railroad tracks to get there, what’s more. Then, I’ve been to International Harvester, Exide Battery, and several others. Tomorrow I go to see Armour, Swift and some smaller outfits. I’m getting to be a real Chicagoan. You should see me swinging street cars and rapping on doors.
And, I’ll tell you, I’m getting tired of this type work. I hope we’re finished soon and actually I think we’ll finish sooner than Jack Keilen expects because we get the same answers from all the people in the same business. I mean, all the leather people tell me the same things so why call on 50 of them when a couple will do?
My feet are tired.
The stores stay open until 7 o’clock on Monday so I dashed out for the nearest art shop and spent 10 bucks on Christmas cards materials for me and thee — I’ve decided to wait ’til I get home to cut the blocks cause I want you to help me with the design. I did get lots of ink for printing and some handy addresses for plate hangers, etc.
Incidentally, are you sending the list of silk screen material?
Must get back to my map of Chicago and plan tomorrow’s trips.
Mucho, mucho love, friend, with mucho mucho keeses (I feel like such a Southerner up-out– here that I’m sure I’m from South America) – takeoff your close, keed, let’s dance.
Regards to the Salmons — & Julia & Clara & Sunny & Rex S. also.

Passionately,
Louis

Postmark: November 15, 1948 Chicago, Ill
Tuesday night

My darling —
Here it is 7 o’clock and I’m holed up with my radio and my Pink House books and wishing I were with you.
This should arrive on your birthday. I wish I could arrive instead of this letter. I hate missing your birthday [would have been 22nd – Ed.] I asked Ed Keilen if I could miss Thanksgiving instead but he felt I should be here now.
Darling, I hope you have a nice birthday. I know you will. I also hope the presents arrived and you like them. Honestly, I was at a loss as to what you wanted and even asked your Mother before I left but together we couldn’t figure it out. So, I wandered through the shops. I started to get some frilly things — but, I must confess, I didn’t know your size in blouses. Remind me to check your size first thing when I get home. I’m sorry I’m so poor at picking out presents.
Thanks for your letters and the news of Frances’s wedding. And don’t bother to get the Waldorf Junior – League rooms. If, and I’m afraid it’s a long one, we do figure on your going I hope we can get the company room for free. But, more of that when I get home.
I’m afraid I can’t catch that noon plane to Charleston because I have an important appointment that morning and I’ll have to rush to catch the 4:30 plane. If I do find I can catch it, I’ll let you know.
I’m enthralled at this moment with “Inspector Hearthstone of the Death Squad” in “The Touch of Death” — all about a woman in sapphire blue. But what a dull show. Only three murders to date.
I can’t wait to see the Pink House in all its splendor. I’m sure you and Miss Alice have done a splendid job.
I spent most of the day in the stockyards talking to Armour and Swift about liguin. And, love, let us never complain about the purfume of West Virginia Pulp and Paper Company [when] we can remember the fumes of the stockyard! Whew! I could hardly breathe!
Back to the Pink House books — Happy Birthday, darling, I hope we can spend the next 60 years together and every birthday. Happy Birthday – my love.

All my love,
Louis

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Russell Lawson

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